A Shot in the Dark
by Marilyn Stabs
Summary: One Shot. Slash. Draco intends to warn Harry of an attack. The two share an intense encounter.


Harry awoke with a startled gasp, quickly silenced by cold fingers pressed hard into his lips. He looked around wildly but all he could see was the familiar landscape of dark blobs that was his eyesight without the aid of his glasses. As if the person who'd crept up on him was witness to his thoughts, his glasses were slipped awkwardly over his head, one curved stem poking into his ear.

He felt the heat of breath upon his cheek.

"I know you have a need for constant heroics, Potter, but please don't alert your roommates that anything is wrong," whispered a somewhat familiar voice in his ear. Unfortunately, in his groggy state he couldn't place it, and the hand over his mouth prevented him from turning towards the person.

"Get up," the voice hissed, "Come with me."

Slowly, cautiously, Harry rose up. His harasser (for that's all he was at that point- not having committed any real crime as of yet, besides possibly kidnapping) moved behind him and shoved him out of the room. Harry was half tempted to kick at Ron's bed when he passed it, but he decided not to risk it while he was unsure exactly who or what was behind him.

As they made their way into the dimly lit staircase, Harry pressed his body back into his kidnapper, trying to feel and perhaps identify who it was. The body behind him was hard and flat. No great bulk of muscles were detectable; neither were breasts. So it was a male. A skinny male. Harry let himself relax just a bit.

Down the stairs they went until they were in the common room. The hand was removed and Harry spun around and jammed his arm into the throat of the man behind him, shoving him against the wall.

"Potter," he cried hoarsely.

Harry's eyes went round in surprise. He was so shocked that he lowered his arm and took a step back.

"Malfoy?" he breathed, and was surprised to see his breath rise up into a cloud before him. He shivered, whether from the cold or the view in front of him, he wasn't sure.

"The one and only," Draco replied, rubbing the column of his throat and coughing profusely. "What sort of move was that, you maniac?"

"I…I learned it from Ron's brother Bill," Harry stammered.

"Yes, well, it's effective, isn't it?"

"What are you doing here? How did you get in?" 

Draco lowered his hand from his neck and tilted his head, grinning eerily. He took one step forward, pushing himself away from the wall and closer to Harry. Harry noticed with some interest how the warm light from the smoldering fire across the room cast sinister shadows across Draco's face. Harry couldn't help but think that if Draco was bent on frightening Harry out of his wits, he couldn't have planned this scene better.

"Well?" Harry prompted.

"My father is out," Draco announced, lowing his eyelids so that shadows of his lashes cast long, jagged lines down his cheeks. "He's escaped and he's back home. He plans on killing you himself."

Harry shuddered and said nothing. A faint, cold fear settled over him. Draco looked up, his normally dull eyes suddenly intense with color. 

"I thought you'd want to know. So that you could prepare an offensive move," Draco told him matter-of-factly.

"Is this some kind of a trick?" Harry managed to get out. In his sudden blast of fear, his larynx seemed to have seized up tightly. He could hardly breath.

"No, you fuckwit, it's not. Look-" he startled Harry by stepping closer and lifting one arm up. 

Harry flinched.

"Jumpy, aren't we?" Draco asked with something of a laugh, and dropped his hand onto Harry's shoulder. He began again. "I felt it was my duty to tell you. Fair is fair, isn't it? My father plans on making his move at the train station at the last day of school. He'll be there with a few other of the Death Eaters. They'll be waiting for you."

"_Why_ is it your duty to tell me? You haven't expressed very warm feelings towards me in the past," Harry shot out as he pulled away from Draco's hand. He felt strange having Draco touch him. He had a vague sense of being slightly out of control under the influence of the contact.

Draco dropped his arm, but he moved closer still. At such a close range, Harry heard him swallow deeply, saw the flash of emotion in his gray eyes.

"Maybe I'm starting to feel differently about you," Draco said.

"Differently like how?"

"Like…" Draco trailed off. His eyes became clouded. He shook his head. "I shouldn't have come here."

Draco turned and started to walk towards the portrait. Harry watched as Draco passed in and out of the flickering shadows, his body slumping, his hair glowing with a halo of light. Then, abruptly, Draco straightened and turned back towards Harry.

"He's not the same as he used to be," Draco said, "My father. There's something different about him. He has a haunted quality to him. There's something cold in his eyes that didn't used to be there."

Harry did not know what to say. His mind flashed with images of Sirius- his face gaunt and expression hollow after breaking out of Azkaban.

"You are the only one who would understand," Draco continued, "You're the only one who's known someone…"

He trailed off into silence. Harry stood still, eyes locked with Draco's. He was unable to turn away, but unable to move forward. He had a strange urge to-- well, he wasn't sure. To comfort the other boy? No, that would be ridiculous.

"Never mind," Draco snapped. He turned towards the portrait.

"Wait. Malfoy."

Draco paused and looked back.

Harry hadn't planned on what to say next. The words just burbled out.

"I'm sorry."

Draco looked stricken. His cherry colored lips parted just slightly, and a wet glaze come over his eyes. A second later, two tears trickled down his face. He did not move to wipe them away, but rather stood courageously, unafraid of showing such vulnerability. Harry was struck by a certain sense of admiration for him.

Draco nodded. Harry moved forward.

"And…thank you for warning me," Harry ventured. 

"Potter."

Draco's cheeks were ruddy, his eyes were large and childlike. He slunk forward, closing the space between himself and Harry. 

"Yes?" Harry asked.

"Thank you for understanding."

Harry drew in a breath, trying desperately to wrap his mind around just what was going on here. That was when Draco slipped forward, pressed his hands into Harry's back and crushed his mouth over Harry's. Harry had the sensation of falling off of a very high cliff. He had the delicious feeling of being in the air, free falling with the wind tearing through his hair and his blood racing, but he also knew that an all too sudden, fatal stop was imminent. So he clung to Draco, trying to make it last. Trying to save himself for just that minute that they were touching.

He had no idea that he'd wanted this so badly. Now it seemed obvious to him. All those years of hating Draco, despising him-- he'd actually been wanting the boy.

It was Draco who finally pulled away. He looked somewhat bewildered, and comically ravaged. Somehow, his smooth hair had gotten tousled and his shirt collar wrinkled. His skin was blushing fiercely and his lips were damp.

Harry swallowed hard, "I'm sor--"

"Don't say it. Please don't be sorry," Draco said.

Harry realized vaguely that this was the first time Draco had ever said he was sorry about something.

Draco's fingers traced over Harry's cheek. 

"I should go."

"You don't have to," Harry blurted.

Draco smirked almost sadly, "You know I do."

With that, he turned away for the final time and walked over to the portrait hole. Harry struggled with himself for something to say. Anything to say at all that wasn't completely stupid. But he could barely remember why Draco had come in the first place. Hell, he could barely recall his own name.

"Hogsmeade," Harry finally gasped. "This Sunday. The back corner of The Three Broomsticks around three."

Draco didn't look back, but he paused and appeared to be thinking about it.

"No," he replied after a full minute of silence.

Harry gulped; his fingers were cold. He felt his whole body grow heavier, and his face stung with the warmth of embarrassment.

"Oh," was all he could manage.

Still without turning, Draco finished: "Two o'clock is better for me, actually" he said and after one last look at Harry coupled with a weak grin, he disappeared through the swinging portrait.


End file.
